I guess I would call myself a Carrie Fisher fan, or at least a Star Wars fan, but I couldn't be more relieved that I got Wishful Drinking from the library rather than purchasing a copy for myself. As vacation reading goes, this memoir certainly fulfilled its purpose--though only for an hour and a half or so--it was fluffy and I've already pretty much forgotten everything I just read. The main problem is that it reads like it was directly transcribed from the one-woman stage show from which it is adapted, like a rambling monologue, with pieces that just don't work very well in text form. The various pictures inserted to illustrate various points ultimately make you realize that the book is really as insubstantial as a piece of dandelion fluff. Even the Star Wars and Paul Simon anecdotes end up being a little humdrum, and as for her new reliance on electro-shock therapy . . . the less said about that, the better.